Position
by Leithwen
Summary: The Führer shows Mustang exactly what position he is in. FMA Brotherhood - episode 25. BradleyMustang


"Why are you letting me live?" asked Roy.

"To make you understand where you stand," answered the Führer sipping his tea.

"Since when has the military been beholden to the Homunculi?" asked Roy glaring at the man with his cup of tea.

Without turning to face Mustang, Bradley answered that it had been that way from the start – the beginning of Amestris.

Mustang's shoulders slumped a little.

"So you've been smiling with glee, watching us struggle," continued Mustang. "Your hands that were shaking during Brigadier General Hughes' funeral…" Mustang had to pause for a moment.

"Was that just an act?" demanded Mustang rising slightly out his seat.

"Everyone makes too big a deal out of the death of a soldier." The Führer seemed almost confused in his tone. A lamenting of silliness. "They should have know his military uniform might become his burial attire."

His callous tone grated on Mustang's nerves, but the Führer continued.

"Brigadier General Hughe's daughter was so annoying during the funeral. She really got on my nerves," ended the Führer turning his angered gaze toward Mustang.

The comment seemed at odds with Bradley's life.

"If I recall," started Mustang, "you also have a child. How could you say such a thing?"

"Are you referring to Selim?" asked the Führer turning his attention back to the view outside the window. "He's a good boy."

"I wonder how'd he react if he were to find out his father, a man of utmost standing, was a homunculus," wondered Mustang – a veiled threat in his tone.

"Are you trying to blackmail me?" asked Bradley. "It's futile. He won't become my weakness."

Bradley turned from the window.

"But you're different," he said looking at Mustang glaring at him. "She'll become your weakness."

Mustang straightened slightly as he understood what the Führer was saying.

The Führer then proceeded to tell Mustang where his subordinates had been reassigned. And specifically where Hawkeye would stand.

"And that's how it is. Colonel Roy Mustang."

Mustang stared at the floor while he proceeded what Bradley had said. The implications of it, and the threat behind it.

He felt so… alone.

No! Bradley had not won yet. He may not be able to move his pieces but he hadn't lost the game yet. Mustang didn't realise he had stood up with his resolve. It was only when Bradley was suddenly next to him that discovered he was standing.

Before he had time to recover, Bradley had taken his right wrist and twisted up behind his back. But was painful but Mustang refused to show Bradley anymore emotion. He would not be beaten.

With deft movement, Bradley marched Mustang forward and slammed his upper body down onto his desk. Mustang threw his free arm forward to break the impact.

The Führer leaned over him until his mouth was in line with Mustang's ear.

"I feel I should warn you," he said ignoring the glare Mustang was shooting him, "that while I'll take no pleasure in it, I will do what is necessary to ensure your good behaviour."

As he spoke Bradley purposely shifted his body up again Mustang. Mustang's eyes widened slightly at the implication in Bradley's voice and the feeling of Bradley groin pressed up against his rear.

With great effort Mustang kept his features neutral. He knew Bradley was trying to shake him, make him submit but he refused to let Bradley see anything other than his resolve.

"Tell me you understand," breathed the Führer.

Mustang did nothing.

They remained still for a moment – a strange game of chicken – before Bradley quickly, and effectively, slipped his hand down the front of Mustang's trousers and taking hold of his genitals with a firm grip – flesh against flesh.

A sharp intake of breath was all Mustang allowed to escape his lips. He stared fixedly at the wood of the desk. He couldn't bring himself to look at Bradley, he didn't want to know what lay bare on his face.

"Tell me," repeated Bradley.

Again Mustang refused.

Bradley took a firmer grip on Mustang and pulled his hips backwards and against his groin. It took a moment of concentration and gentle rubbing but Bradley started to feel a little worked up. It helped that Mustang was trembling slightly, his jaw was tight and his eyes shiny. Bradley didn't lust after Mustang, he lusted after his, or anyone's, submission to his control.

Bradley idly began to wonder if he would have to make on good on his threat. Was Mustang going to force his hand? Test his limits? Bradley would do it, Mustang must know that.

"I understand," chocked out Mustang quietly, his lip quivered slightly in defeat and anguish.

Bradley eased back slightly and slid his hand free. He pulled Mustang to his feet but didn't yet let go. He could feel the relief seep into Mustang body but before his resolve could strengthen, Bradley grabbed the back of Mustang's trousers, hooking his finger into Mustang's belt. An involuntary whimper escaped Mustang, and he held his breath waiting... Dreading…

But the Führer spun him round and gently pushed him toward the chair. He let go of Mustang, straightened his uniform and lightly pressed down on his shoulder indicating he should sit.

Mustang did so but he kept his eyes on the ground. The Führer thought he had beaten Mustang. He was wrong. Mustang wasn't about to let Bradley see his true intentions anymore.

He had to be stronger, he had people to protect.


End file.
